


Worn Knees

by Lullabylily



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lullabylily/pseuds/Lullabylily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin’s knees are hurting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worn Knees

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to riventhorn for beta'ing. 
> 
> Merlin hurt/comfort pure and simple written in order to cheer up my dear friend dark_kana who was suffering from inflamed meniscus. Because hurt!Merlin is love, because there is always a mean knight in Camelot, because Arthur always notices something is wrong (in the end.. it may take him some time)… Or well… because you don’t need an excuse to write h/c.

**Worn Knees**

 

Merlin stumbled to a halt and sat down on the servants’ steps that led up to the kitchen.  _Just a few minutes_ , he thought. Arthur wouldn’t notice his dinner being only a few minutes late…  
  
His hands moved to his bony knees, pressing down experimentally and flinching. He massaged them gently, ignoring the flashes of lightening-bolt pain. The sun prickled on his neck, and in seconds he’d broken out in sweat.  
  
“Taking a break, are you?” A shadow fell over him as a figure behind him blocked out the sun.  
  
Merlin strained his neck to see a bulky figure coming down the steps. He’d already recognized the voice—Sir Dilwyn, who often lingered around the servants’ entrance to the kitchen. Rumour had it he wasn’t just looking for leftover food…  
  
Merlin scrambled to his feet, lowering his eyes. “Just resting my legs, sir.”  
  
Most of Arthur's knights didn’t demand that Merlin address them with their honorific, but he knew Sir Dilwyn insisted upon it.  
  
“Something wrong with your knees?” Dilwyn asked, sounding far too cheerful about Merlin’s evident suffering.  
  
“Just sore muscles, sir,” Merlin said, still looking down. Dilwyn didn’t need to know that it didn’t feel like muscle aches at all, but rather something much more serious.  
  
He heard a small huff of mocking laughter escape Dilwyn’s lips. “I’m not surprised. Arthur has you working on your knees, does he?”  
  
Merlin looked up at the man’s smirking face, only to blush scarlet when he caught on to the knight’s meaning. He bit back a retort. The last thing he needed now was getting punishment in the stocks for insulting a knight.  
  
“That’s where I’d keep you, if you were mine to keep,” Dilwyn continued.  
  
 _Good thing I’m not yours then_ , Merlin thought, but he only nodded curtly, excusing himself and staggering towards the kitchen to find Arthur’s meal.  
  
The steps up to Arthur’s chambers were killing him. He focussed on holding up the heavy plate, channelling a little bit of magic to make sure he didn’t drop it. Arthur had promised him half a day in the stocks if he spilled the soup again. Merlin panted, willing his knees to keep from buckling underneath his weight. By the time he reached the final step, his eyes were watery and his legs shaking.  
  
It wasn’t fair, that simple tasks like this had become so painful.  
  
Merlin had felt his knees getting sore for a week. But he’d woken up in serious pain only yesterday. Of course Arthur had decided that it was a perfect day for a hunt. The servants had been required to keep up on foot, when there had been enough horses to spare. They’d travelled further into the woods than had originally been the plan, and Merlin had been carrying part of the supplies. After their return, Merlin had to scrub the floor to Arthur’s chambers, carry up water for Arthur’s bath and fetch Gaius from the village when the king summoned him. It had been a long day, and with his knees already sore, pain had quickly turned into agony.  
  
He managed to open the door to Arthur’s chamber, balancing the plate in one hand. He entered the room, keeping his eyes low as he noticed Arthur’s impatient posture near the hearth. He was late, and Arthur knew it.  
  
“I was wondering whether or not you’d get here before sunset,” Arthur grumbled.  
  
If his body hadn’t been caught up in shudders, he’d probably have rolled his eyes. He really wasn’t  _that_  late. He set Arthur’s dinner on the table, looking up when Arthur didn’t say anything else. He was usually talkative during his dinners. He found Arthur staring at him, eyebrows furrowed in a frown.  
  
“Are you feverish?”  
  
Merlin looked at Arthur, confused, until he became aware that his hands were shaking as he laid out Arthur’s utensils.  
  
“Oh. It’s nothing, sire,” Merlin mumbled quickly, clenching his fist.  
  
Arthur slowly slid down into the chair, eyes still fixed on Merlin. “You’re shivering. In summer.”  
  
Merlin suppressed a sigh. Explaining this to Arthur would be hard if he didn’t want Arthur to think he was a complete weakling.  
  
“It’s my knees. They hurt. It was hard getting up the stairs.”  
  
From the look on Arthur’s face, Merlin knew he’d failed at not sounding like a fragile girl.  
  
“Your knees? How did they get buggered?”  
  
 _Being your manservant probably had something to do with that_.  
  
“I’m fine,” Merlin insisted.  
  
Arthur started eating slowly, his eyes following Merlin around the room. Merlin removed the burnt down candle stubs and replaced them until he got tired of Arthur watching him.  
  
“I will be fine,” he repeated.  
  
“What is wrong with your knees?”  
  
Merlin sighed. “I don’t know. They just started hurting. It got worse after yesterday’s hunt.”  
  
Arthur looked thoughtful, his face screwing into an expression that never failed to make Merlin want to smile. “Doesn’t Gaius have something to help?”  
  
“I used a muscle ointment, but I don’t think it’s my muscles. I’ll ask him to have a look at them tonight,” Merlin said, desperate to put an end to the questioning.  
  
Arthur put down his spoon, still looking troubled. “Your knees are too bony.”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Merlin said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m bony, skinny and fat all at the same time.”  
  
He’d meant for it to be a stab at Arthur’s irritating behaviour a few days earlier, when he’d send Merlin running all over the palace on useless errands. He’d justified making Merlin run around for hours by saying that Merlin was getting too fat and lazy. But the pain in his knees made him say it with a lot more frustration than he’d intended.  
  
“You’re not fat. Obviously. There’s no bloody fat anywhere near those sticks you call legs. Are you eating enough?”  
  
Merlin stared at Arthur incredulously. “If this is a prelude to you feeding me rat again, I’d rather leave now.”  
  
“Oh, quit the drama, Merlin. You should rest those knees. No point limping around my chambers being even more useless than usual.”  
  
“I’m not limping,” Merlin mumbled, ignoring the stab at his uselessness.  
  
His protest failed when a particularly sharp jolt of pain stabbed through his left knee in his next step. His knee buckled, and he stumbled, flinching.  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “I rest my case. You’re dismissed for the night.”  
  
Merlin’s jaw dropped, and he stood dumbstruck for a moment. He shook his head, reaching out for Arthur’s used cutlery. “I can still finish my duties for the day.”  
  
“I can get someone else to clear my table. Go rest your legs and take tomorrow off too.”  
  
“You’re giving me a day off?" Merlin asked incredulously, then he paled, "Are you sacking me over screwing up my knees?” he asked, suddenly alarmed. Arthur didn’t let him have days off. Ever. He always said that if he had to replace Merlin for the day, he’d never want him back.  
  
“No one is sacking you, Merlin. You might have a serious injury.”  
  
“You’re giving me a day off,” Merlin repeated, still uncertain.  
  
“Yes. Starting now. Sit down.”  
  
“Sit down?” Merlin exclaimed, now positively uncomfortable at Arthur’s strange behaviour.  
  
“Yes. Sit down. Have this bread.”  
  
Merlin reluctantly let himself be pulled into the chair. “You do know Gaius feeds me, don’t you?”  
  
“Clearly not enough.”  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes, too confused by Arthur to bother arguing. “’s nice… sitting down…” Merlin mumbled, shifting his legs into a comfortable position by leaning back against the chair.  
  
“Good.” Arthur said, in that ‘I always know best’ tone of voice.  
  
A comfortable silence settled around the two of them. Arthur poured more wine, and Merlin absentmindedly took the cup and drank from it. The bittersweet liquid burned softly and pleasantly down his throat and it took a few moments before Merlin realized it hadn’t been his cup but  _Arthur’s_  and that he wasn’t supposed to be sitting down at the prince’s table, drinking the prince’s wine… He put the cup down quickly, looking at Arthur, startled and guilty.  
  
But Arthur’s mouth was already twitching into a smile and watching Merlin’s imitation of a codfish tipped him over. He started laughing loudly. Slowly Merlin relaxed again.  
  
“Have some more wine, Merlin,” Arthur said, smirking at him. He got up from his chair to get an extra cup.  
  
They both drank, enjoying the evening's cool respite from the summer heat. Merlin did finally convince Arthur to let him clear his dinner plates, but only on swearing that he wouldn’t budge for anything the next day.  
  
**  
  
Two days later, the pain still hadn’t gone away entirely. But it had started to feel better, with Gaius providing pomades and herbal potions.  
  
When he heard about the hunting party, he hoped his sinking courage didn’t show too much on his face.  
  
“You’re not joining us on foot, Merlin,” Arthur said as he emerged from the stables, sitting on his grey mare. He was tugging a second mare behind him. She was already saddled. Merlin looked at Arthur questioningly.  
  
“Here.” Arthur handed Merlin the ropes. “Hop on, we’re moving quickly.”  
  
Merlin smiled.  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Oh, he’s happy. You give him a pony and it’s Christmas. Figures you’re such a girl, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin didn’t even grimace at the comment but happily moved to mount the horse.  
  
“I should have let you take another day off,” Arthur mumbled, eyes following Merlin’s stiff movements with obvious concern.  
  
Merlin did manage to get into the saddle and when he smiled back at Arthur, pain only slightly twisted his smile into something a little off.  
  
“I’m fine. Or I will be.” He relaxed his legs into a dead weight against the horse. “Besides, who else would look out for you on this trip?”  
  
Arthur stared back at him, his mouth twitching, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say something condescending, about how he didn’t need Merlin for protection. But then he didn’t, and just looked away, a small, secretive smile tugging at his lips.  
  
Merlin couldn’t explain why that suddenly filled him with warmth.


End file.
